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 (Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
 (Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
  As she is troubled with read more 
 (Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
 (Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
  As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
   That keep her from her rest.
    (Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
     Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
      Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
       Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
        And with some sweet oblivious antidote
         Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
          Which weighs upon the heart?
           (Doctor:) Therein the patient
            Must minister to himself.
             (Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it! 
 This is the way that physicians mend or end us,
 Secundum artem: but although we sneer
  In read more 
 This is the way that physicians mend or end us,
 Secundum artem: but although we sneer
  In health--when ill, we call them to attend us,
   Without the least propensity to jeer. 
 You rub the sore
 When you should bring the plaster!  
 You rub the sore
 When you should bring the plaster! 
 There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for 
all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes.  
 There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for 
all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes. 
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better read more
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better tomorrow
 So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art
 By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part,
  Bold in the read more 
 So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art
 By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part,
  Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,
   Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools. 
 Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore,
 For by his side a pouch he wore,
  Replete with strange read more 
 Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore,
 For by his side a pouch he wore,
  Replete with strange hermetic powder
   That wounds nine miles point-blank would solder. 
 One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of 
fellowship with other human beings read more 
 One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of 
fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among 
them.